


Big Boss' Chosen One

by BARALAIKA



Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Birth, Birthing, Cuckolding, Hyper Pregnancy, Jealousy, M/M, Male Lactation, Mpreg, Rivalry, porn au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 15:04:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21120749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BARALAIKA/pseuds/BARALAIKA
Summary: Commission. Ocelot juggles an elaborate farce on Mother Base, all while heavily pregnant. Kaz is cucked.





	Big Boss' Chosen One

**Author's Note:**

> "a basic summary: Thanks to the power of porn an au where in mgsv The Actual Big Boss agrees to the les enfants terribles project and ocelot volunteers to carry the clones (+george bc hnng) bc he lubs his husband. venom is brainwashed to believe the triplets r his. kaz is cucked. morale on motherbase has never been higher. ocelot is a smug kitty. bonus if the pregnancy is a bit accelerated bc Weird Clone Aging so like, oce is Him Big."
> 
> I write what I'm told to, Metal Gear tag. ❤︎

The agonising weight in Ocelot’s belly grew ever greater by the day. Everything became more difficult; rising from his bed, dressing himself, cleaning himself, walking, sitting, standing, the list yawned on and on. Merely  _ existing _ was exhausting, but all was worth it for the prize he harboured in his body.

He was the one chosen to bear the young of Big Boss.

Many were shocked to learn that their Major had unlike many of them, but the fantastical became the mundane wherever he and the greatest soldier known to mankind were concerned. No demand was too great and no happening too strange, so a pregnant man was the least of their worries— simply another thing to adapt to and to gently introduce to new recruits. Mother Base was home to some truly, quite frankly,  _ weird shit _ .

Such as the pregnant man. He was difficult to miss, on account of his attempts to strut around the platform as if he owned it. Slowed to a waddle and garbed in some less-than-perfect maternity wear (consisting of elasticated panels added to his usually-sharp fatigues, to varying success), Ocelot was reduced to supporting his obscene belly as he trekked from his quarters to the communications centre to carry on his work. Climbing steps was torture. By the time he arrived in place at the top of the tower, he was soaked through with sweat, sore and less than happy. A fantastic place to find Miller.

Jealousy had never been a good look on him but god, it was a satisfying one. Despite how he suffered for the man they both adored, Ocelot strived to make sure to show as little of his pain as possible when around Kaz. Just to make sure. Just to  _ really _ let him know that  _ he _ was the favourite. That  _ he _ could give their beloved Boss what he wanted… a fertile womb within which the seeds of his legacy could grow. He was their Big Mama, nurturing three clones of Big Boss, giving his entire body and being to their safety and growth, to nourish them and protect them, to feel them at every hour of every day and to display his dedication and love to the world in every glance. What was it that Miller did, again?

Impotent rage seethed under Miller’s poker face. Maintaining it was a constant struggle of will and many a time had he succumbed when out of earshot to a scream of frustration and sheer, raw hopelessness when it came to his place in their grand plan. What was there now that he could do for his beloved Boss? The man who refused to discard him when he was harmed, who clung to him for support and for validation and… god, how long had it been since they'd fucked?

Too long. Long enough to know that he was no longer the favourite.

The sight alone of Ocelot, barely fitting in his chair, knees wide and trying to support his belly… it made his blood boil. It was past the point of glowing, of any kind of beauty; Ocelot’s skin stretched so taut, his pallor rendered red and raw, gouged with stretch marks as if clawed apart by some great beast. Crawling paths of sickly blue veins wound their way across the vast expanse of Ocelot’s over-stuffed, utterly burdened dome of a womb, which stirred visibly as three baby boys vied for room and jostled for some semblance of space within which to move and develop. To Kaz’s eyes, it was nothing short of grotesque.

Even more strange was the rate at which they grew. Kaz watched, obsessive, as Ocelot boated with young far too rapidly for any natural conception. While it made perfect sense to him that the young of a man such as Big Boss would be a cut above all others, it was unsettling just how large his babies were.

  
  
  


_ “Their growth is accelerated,” Ocelot spoke out of nowhere, breaking the silence between them. The whirr of machinery and clacking of an output drawing jagged lines on a scrolling piece of paper was as close as they got to quiet on the base and an interruption in it was not usually welcome between the two. “You aren't subtle, Miller.”  _

_ A nasty smirk unfurled across the predator’s face despite the disturbance on his belly. _

_ “David is kicking. Do you want to feel?” _

  
  
  


Venom adored him more than ever.

Whenever he was on base, Ocelot didn't have to worry about a thing— waited on hand and foot, with a burly hunk attached to him at the hip with one hand on his babes and a cigar in the other. They kissed openly, brazenly, as if challenging somebody to have a problem with it and voice their concern. Snake doted upon his partner from overt displays of attention, to desensitisation to bodily fluids, rubbing his swollen feet and aching back, suckling his weeping tits and fucking him stupid.

It was easier said than done, but once on his back, Ocelot was stuck. His hefty belly pinned him to the surface he laid upon and left him stranded— entertaining for some, but considerably less so for the man himself.

No, Snake was a gentleman and the comfort of mother and young was important to him. Supported by pillows and cushions galore, Ocelot rested on hands and knees with the weight of his womb relieved from him. Pregnancy had swelled his cunt lips, deepened their tones from creamy pale to flushed, full red beneath curls of platinum pubic hair— everything about Ocelot’s body was ripe and abundant and it suited him. Excess was met with celebration by his partner, with Snake overjoyed by every inch to explore. He loved it. Motherhood had turned Ocelot into more of a man than ever, filled out his edges and created a figure to be savoured, emphasising his muscles with the meat he needed to become a perfect specimen of masculine motherhood. 

The width of his hips made his ass thicker, rounded him out and made him juicy and begging to be grabbed. Snake’s hands sunk into his dimpled ass cheeks, groped around to his sturdy hips and underneath his distended womb to rub its underside. This ritual often took place in front of their men, who could not help but gawk. It grew even more difficult not to look when their beloved Boss yanked down Ocelot’s fatigues to bear his cunt to the air, nestled in a tangle of pubes that stank of sweat, fertility and enough raw, unfiltered hormones to send even Miller into a jealous haze with cock throbbing and needs untended.

  
  
  


_ “No. See to your duties, Major, and I will to mine,” Miller spat. He sneered away from Ocelot’s disarming smirk and turned away, but that wasn’t enough to put the cat off. A scrape of chair wheels against metal flooring signalled his approach, a clumsy prowl that seemed far too much effort, but he insisted upon it. There was nothing else to do when Daddy was away, after all. _

_ As anticipated, a pressure set into Miller’s side as Ocelot leant in towards him. _

_ “Aww… no need to pout, Kaz. Go on, you're the one that’s gonna end up training them, I bet,” whispered Ocelot, dripping with ill intent. “They’re practically gonna be yours. It’s my job to pop them out… and hand them off to you. Oh, don’t look so upset,” he spat. “It’s what the Boss wants… and you don’t want to let him down, do you?” _

_ Miller snarled. He could feel the freakish babes stir against his side, a bloated foot against his lowest ribs. _

_ “You’re going to look at each one of them and see me. You’ll remember how they felt when they were in me. And you’ll remember how it couldn’t have ever been you to do it for him. What with that useless prick between your legs… it’s no use to him. That’s a fact. Wonder why he always fucked you?” _

_ It was getting harder to breathe evenly. To think straight. _

_ “What, you gonna hit them? That’s low, Kaz, even for you. No… you can put your dick to use or you can have your little tantrum. What’s it gonna be?” _

  
  
  


How tempting he’d always been, but Miller could never bring himself to oblige. He sat and stewed with his hatred and his hard-on, but Ocelot would wheel away with a scoff before he could find the courage to take him up on it. Was it even a genuine offer, or simply a trap? How would Ocelot’s wet, engorged cunt feel around his cock? Had Snake loosened him forever, rendered him a gaping whore? How would it have felt to lean over his massive, punished belly as if he owned it and pound his pussy raw, until he squealed and begged for more?

All he could do was listen to his howling when Snake returned to fuck his baby mama stupid. Ocelot was never subtle, never quiet when with the man he loved the most— be it getting his throat fucked and face smothered by Snake’s hairy, sweaty ass and choked out on his balls or getting his sore cunt sucked on, he was sure that everybody knew about it.

Kaz was far from the only one getting their kicks from eavesdropping; morale had never been higher, with more men than ever beating off after mere sightings of the Major or brushing by his presence. Men were fantasising about carrying his belly for him, laughing over lewd thoughts in the mess hall. So why couldn’t Kaz get over it? They loved it, so why couldn’t he? If everybody else could indulge and extract their pound of flesh and pleasure from the Major, then he deserved to as well, only… it wasn’t that simple, was it?

  
  
  


_ The waters broke around Venom Snake’s cock— mid-fuck, caught in the throes of passion, he was sure that Ocelot had just pissed all over him. Nothing new, right? His hips smacked against Ocelot’s belly and sticky thighs until the furrow of his brow caught Snake’s eye. _

_ “Adam? Are you…?” _

_ It was barely catching up with him, happening in slow motion. Ocelot looked down at the grotesque swell of his body and how badly it hurt and… oh. No. This wasn’t background pain. This was… _

_ Stunned, Ocelot could manage no more than a nod as he stared at his heaving, agonising, visibly squirming stomach. Fucking to induce labour had worked! If anything, too well!  _

_ “They’re…” _

_ Hazy, Ocelot grimaced against the vicious pangs that tore his body apart. He panted, forced to watch as Venom staggered to the intercom, his cock forgotten about, and called through to the med bay. _

_ “They’re coming! My sons are coming!” _

  
  
  


Of course they weren’t his.

Ocelot was the best actor around. That was why it was his job— nobody else could ever have kept up the farce from miraculous conception to amniotic fluid-soaked birthing bed. Through hours upon hours of agonising labour that contorted his body and threatened to shatter his hips, through pain that he could barely stay conscious through.

As his cervix softened, his act remained steadfast. As he pushed and voided his bowels over the side of the bed, as he stretched impossibly far over the first triplet and managed to push a perfect clone of Big Boss into the world, red and screaming… nobody was any the wiser.

Venom Snake, his perfect doppelgänger. Punished Snake, their undeserving sacrifice.

Their  _ real _ father could not be there. Their stand-in father, their un-father, the man sculpted and stitched and stapled and grafted until he could be their father… he was the one who was there to see them into the world. He, with his uncanny face. He, who cleaned his eldest son and sobbed with joy. He, who glowed with pride.

They weren’t his.

He could never know.

Ocelot almost pitied him. Just another piece on the board of the real man’s game, which Ocelot swore to shadow until the end. He’d serve his purpose and bear his burdens, anything…

_ Anything _ for Big Boss.


End file.
